Dragonball Alpha
by BigT
Summary: When Dragonball Z fails, it's up to Clark Gibbons to pick up the pieces. Read as this fiction goes between the world of the real, and the world of Dragonball Alpha!


Chapter 1  
"Mr. Satan's sick! How is it that you expect him to help you?   
The super legends were fighting their most legendary battle yet. They were losing. The onslaught was completely unexpected. They were getting creamed.   
"I thought you were the.....world champion?" The mechanical head asked.  
"He's the human world champion! Those things fighting out there are....are...monsters! There's a difference you know?" The man sticking up for Mr. Satan was old and skinny. In his day, he had been the world champion. Not because of strength, but skill. Mr. Satan had muscled his way into his crown.  
"No," Mr. Satan cut in, "the head is right. I can't let my world be destroyed by monsters! Their's even a kid out their fighting for earth. A kid! What can I do?" The head smiled. Mr. Satan could hear the motors in the androids jaw rotating. It was clear that it was dying'.   
"Get me to the child....you can throw...me if you want...." The head was struggling to talk.   
The dirt all around the fight scene was blowing around in the dry hot wind. The look on Mr. Satan's face was of utter fear. He didn't know what compelled him to try and help these monsters. It was clear that they could extinguish his live with a mere wave of a hand. As he picked up the head and ran towards the boy and the tall green monster, he dodged in and out of rocks, and ditches. Once he got about twenty yards away, Mr. Satan wound up and threw the head of the android. It landed next to the green monster.   
"I guess I don't know my own strength..." He yelled at the few people who were also cowering behind a rock.   
Gohan looked down at the head. He was really scared that he had failed everyone. His father, Trunks, Vegeta, Krillin, Yamacha, Tien, Piccolo, all his friends, they were all going to die if he didn't do something soon. He had to fight, but he couldn't. There was no way. He was too scared of the consequences. As Gohan looked down to Android 16, he was filled with grief.  
"Gohan," Android 16 began, "it's okay to kill if it's done for the better good. We all have to make sacrifices, some are greater than others. Save my....nature...Gohan...my nature!" Cell looked down at the Android and smirked.  
"Don't you ever die?" He asked as he brought his leg plummeting down on the androids last remaining body part. Computer chips flew everywhere. Gohans eyes filled with tears of rage. Gohan's emotions surfaced, and with them came a gust of power later to be called Super Saiyan level 2.  
  
* * *  
"Do you people realize that that episode had a higher viewer rating then the Super Bowl this year? Do you realize that the next day, Dragon Ball Z's ratings dropped to the lowest they been since season 3? Do you realize why this happened?" The conference room was dark and hot. The drapes were closed today because men were washing the windows. The over head lights were dim thanks to rewiring of the building. The faces of the other twelve or so members in the room were as grim as anything. They had always taken fire from the teenaged audience for editing Dragon Ball Z the way they did. If they didn't, they would have parents angry at them. "I'll tell you why, because you fucked up! Cartoon Network, and YTV have both taken DBZ off the air. There's no more reason for us to keep dubbing it, but we have to because of the Voice Actor's contracts. It'll be the biggest waste of money in corporate history. As of right now, unless you can give me a good reason not to, you're all laid off due to corporate cutbacks." The faces of the employees were low, and ashamed. Clark Gibbons, the boss continued, in my office, now!  
"Uh...yes sir." Clark was a tall skinny man. He had thinning black hair, and blue eyes. Although wasn't far from his prime, he was withered like a old man. Teenaged life had done it to him. Late night drinking, early mornings, and drugs of all kinds- but mainly marijuana and cocaine mostly.   
He had worked for Funimation for as long as he could remember, going from project to project. Before Funi, there was only a dream of one day competing in professional tennis. Up until the day of the car accident, it was more than a dream. Now it was a faint call on the wind.   
As he walked into the boss's office he noticed all of the man's high school wrestling trophies. How could you not notice them? They were positioned around the room so that was all you could see. There was no doubt that he had made some of them, more like most of them, but it didn't matter. It was still an impressive sight, nonetheless.   
"Clark, I like you. You're an imaginative man. I would feel badly about not giving you a second chance at this. As you can tell we've got a big problem. Those voice actors aren't going to go away without at least their money. We aren't getting enough money to pay them without CN airing the show. They aren't gonna air the show unless their sure it's gonna be popular. I doubt we're gonna get enough ratings from children watching it. Now, I'm giving you 2 days to think up a solution to this problem. No more than that. You can hire a team of people to help you. You have three options here. Either find a way to make DBZ popular again, begin dubbing Dragon Ball GT, or create a new series. It's your choice, but it's your head. That is all."   
Clark was slightly relieved, and slightly worried. On one hand, he still had his job, on the other if he didn't make the right decision, he might not in a week. As he walked home, he thought about his decision. Should he hire new personnel or just stick with his friends? Which option should he choose? What would he tell his wife? He didn't realize how much he had walked, until he saw the door to his apartment. "Honey? I'm home!" As he walked through the door way, he could smell ground beef wafting around the 4 room suite. Laying his briefcase neatly on the door side table, Clark went to find his wife. Upon reaching the kitchen, he could see that the stove was on low, with a pot of ground beef cooking on it. There was a note on the fridge.  
_ Clark,  
I'm really sorry I couldn't tell you earlier. There's a woman in my university law class. Her name is Anne. We have the highest marks in the year, so we got a free room and board in England. We're studying at Oxford. We aren't coming back. We love each other. Life will be much better for both of us. I hope this letter finds you well  
  
Love  
Sheryl.  
p.s. Before we left, we ate dinner. There's some left over beef on the stove. _  
  
Clark grasped the note in his clammy hands. The air conditioning wasn't on so it was quite warm. He looked it over multiple times, just so he new he had it right. Once he remembered that he wasn't asleep, he crumpled the letter up a dropped it on the floor. Why didn't she tell me about this,' he thought. He got a jolt in his stomach, and suddenly his legs felt like jello. He stumbled into his bedroom, and melodramatically fell onto his bed. It was only after he removed his face from his pillow that he realized that he was crying.  
  
* * *  
Clark stayed up all night thinking about his wife. She had short black hair, that matched her eyes. Like him, she was of Chinese decent, but was the third generation who lived in America. She was 5'4 and 3 quarters. Clark had always remembered that fact. She was one of those people you couldn't help but love. She could always make things seem better than they actually were.   
And the more Clark thought about it, the more he understood how bad of a liar she was. She expected him not to remember that she dropped university. She had been working at the university library. She probably hadn't even left the city.  
  
* * *  
Cell could only look on as the child destroyed each one of his Cell Jr.'s. This boy was fast, and strong. Maybe even too fast, and too strong. As he thought over would he would do, it occurred to him that he had brought this onto himself. If only he had killed the child earlier, he could have won the game. Then again, this was exactly the challenge he was looking for. As Cell prepared to fight the kid, he powered up.  
So finally Cell's showing us his true power! How amazing, Goku said.  
What do think of this kid? Are you scared? Cell was trying to work up some confidence.  
Huh? No. I'll never be scared of you you monster! Gohan said.  
Cell decided it was now or never. He charged at the youth and got ready to go ape-shit. He started by swinging a punch at his head. The punch didn't connect. Much the opposite, it missed completely. That's pretty good kid, but not good enough! Cell dove at Gohan swinging his fists, and kicking his feet. The child was dodging everything with ease.   
Just as Cell felt it was time to regroup, he felt a jolt to his stomach, then a crash on the top of his head. As he hit the ground his wind left him, as did a lot of blood and contents of his stomach. When Cell tried to get up, he stumbled, and fell over again.   
How could he do so much damage to me, with just two punches? Cell asked himself. Without thinking, he flew up into the air. Once he got to a height at which he could see everything, Cell calmed down. Cell began to charge energy in a ball behind him.   
What's he thinking? A Z fighter asked.  
That jerk! Another chimed in.  
I hope he's joking... Trunks said with fear.  
If you dodge this attack, Cell said, then the solar system will be destroyed. You'll have to stop it with your body. HA! Cell released the enormous energy attack upon the earth.  
It's...it's over, Vegeta said. Gohan looked around and smirked.  
It didn't look like Gohan was building energy as he whispered the special words. The giant meteor of Cell's energy was plummeting down. Gohan released another giant attack. It shot upwards, and cut threw Cell's attack, and struck him dead on.  
How can he have so much power? He asked himself.  
Goku called, finish him off now! Do it! You don't know what you're doing!  
Yes I do father. I want to make him suffer.  
* * *  
At lunch the next day, Clark was watching the tapes of the episodes that had ruined Dragon Ball Z. He could clearly see what was wrong with them. Most of the characters had either the wrong emotions, or none at all. Gohan was a scared little child at the start, but by the end he was a powerful brat who took pleasure in making others suffer. Vegeta was supposed to the brave prince of a dead world, but instead he had less nerves them the boy. There wasn't much that could be done about the voice acting, they were just trained the wrong way, and were too amateur.  
Clark looked around his office and rubbed his head. He couldn't believe what had happened yesterday. It seemed like the day he had broken his knee cap all over again. He could remember that day clearly. He and his friends had been at a graduation party. There had been a lot of drinking. Lots of drugs. Lots of fun. Lots of everything. Everyone had been having so much fun, no one had stopped to think. Well, almost no one. Sheryl had. She didn't drink at all, not to mention stayed away from the drugs. She danced, sang, and pretend not to notice everything going on around her. The hostess had rented a strobe-light. Everyone was having the time of their lives. Clark wasn't an exception. He was drunk as a pirate. When it was all over Sheryl had warned him to call a cab. She'd warned him not to drive home with his friends. He hadn't listened. Why should his fun stop because she was being a tight-ass? On the way home a mother and infant were crossing the road at a cross walk. The driver didn't notice until he was on top of them. When Clark woke up the next day he was in hospital. The mother and infant were dead. The driver had braked, and flew through the wind shield. He was dead as well. Clark had broken his knee on the dash board, and cut his head up pretty badly on the wind shield. Sheryl had been the only who'd come to find out how he was.  
Clark thought of how he had proposed to her a week later, after he got out of hospital. They got married in December, under a foot of snow. They'd spent years talking about having a child. Sheryl started university two years later. After that she seemed to drift away from Clark. Now he knew why. Clark punched his desk in anger. Then there was a knock at the door.  
Clark asked as he rubbed his knuckles.  
You have a three o'clock meeting with the people you asked me to call, his secretary told him.  
Thank you, Jean, he said as she closed the door. Clark looked down at his watch. Two-thiry. Not enough time to go out and get a sub before the meeting. Clark was starting to wish he had brought those tacos to work with him. He decided instead to take a quick nap before going to the meeting.   
Clark woke up fifteen minutes later. As he tore his face off the wooden desk and wiped the saliva off his chin, he noticed that the power was out again. His lights were off, as were his computer and clock-radio. Damn teenage punks,' he thought. For a week now there had been constant vandalism of the building. Teenaged fans of Dragon Ball Z who were disappointed about the dubbing job had cut the power twice, egg the building dozens of times, dropped watermelons off the top of the building as people exited, and protested inside of the building. The police had arrested some of the vandals, but they couldn't do anything about the protesters since they weren't _actually_ doing anything wrong. Those stupid kids don't know anything. They have no idea what we went through to get DBZ viewed in America.'  
As Clark walked lazily towards the room where his meeting was to be held, he guided himself along with his hand on the wall. After tripping over a water fountain, whose water was actually a certain yellow liquid thanks to a certain group of people, and bumping into several co-workers, he finally made it to the meeting.   
As Clark walked into the meeting room, he noticed that he was the last person to make it there. A few of the other employees had flash lights on, but for the most part, the room was lit by the sun. For the most part the people looked tired and strained. A black man was sitting at the top of the rectangular table. There was a chalk board behind him, and he had a briefcase with paper in front of him. Clark took a seat beside a woman who had her tied back tightly in a bun.   
Sorry I'm late. It was difficult to navigate through the building with no lights on. Shall we get started? Clark look up and down the table.  
the black man began, you're secretary informed us of what has happened thus far. Do you have any idea about how you're going to go about this? The black man's name was Jim Henry. He owned an animation studio, and had a lot of money.   
To be honest, no. Clark said, but I have an idea about how to get some ideas. Dragonball Z failed because we tried to do too much. We tried to appeal it to everyone. That's why we failed. I don't think there would be any point in continuing with that series. Everyone's already decided that they don't like it anymore-  
But we could change it, the woman sitting beside him interrupted. We could pick up where we left of, and change it.  
And how would go about that, Ms. Rachel? When a teenager decide he doesn't like something, he doesn't like it. Obviously you were never a teenager or else you would know this. Besides, we blew the best part of the show. Nobody wants to see Dragonball Z anymore. Clark said.  
Then why are we here? If no one wants to see it, why waste money? Ms. Angel Rachel was stunned at Clark's tone.  
Because if we chicken out now, we'll never be taken seriously. Funimation got off to a bad start because of Dragonball Z. Nobody respects us, as you can clearly see from the vandalism. Our options are limited. We either dub Dragonball GT, which would cost us a lot of money from buying it and all, or create our own series. This meeting has being called to figure out which of these options we're going to pursue. He had most of the attention even though he knew he wasn't a very good public speaker. It was luck if his audience didn't fall asleep. His talent was in drawing.   
If our aim is saving then money, then I think we should go for a new series. Their was a mumble of approval for this suggestion.   
I was hoping that would be our decision. Alright. We'll meet tomorrow at the same time to decide how we'll go about this series. I'll do some homework tonight and find out how people would like to see the series evolve. Meeting adjourned. Everyone exited the room to go about their various businesses. Clark headed back towards his office.   
They had gotten the lights back on as well as the rest of the electricity. Clark could hear telephones ringing somewhere, and printers going off. When he made it to his office, a sticky note was on his door. It read:  
  
_Clark, their's a message for you from your wife on your answering machine. She said it wasn't important, so I didn't interrupt.   
Jean_  
Jean had been his secretary for only three months. That's how long he had needed one. She was a sweet girl, but a bit on the dull side. She had graduated from high school, and came straight to work here. Clark could tell she liked him. Clark lumbered into his office and sat down behind his desk. He gave a sigh and turned on his answering machine.   
  
_ Hi Clark, it's me Sheryl. Anne and I made it to England safely. We're doing fine. I wish I could've said good-bye in person. _That was a lie,' Clark thought. _If their's anything you want to ask me, you'll have to wait a little while. We don't have a phone yet. I'm calling from a pay phone. I only paid a nickel so i don't have much ti-.  
_She was a horrible liar. They don't have nickels in England', he thought. She probably didn't even leave the city. Clark amazed himself, in just one night he had turned all his sorrow into hate.


End file.
